


Chomp

by eaten_by_bears



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eaten_by_bears/pseuds/eaten_by_bears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sharkticon wrestles with his life. Written for the Transformers Speedwriting community on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chomp

Chomp sat on the edge of his old pit, staring down into the drained pool. His massive shoulders were slumped, and his head was in his hands, the picture of a defeated Sharkticon.

Kup approached slowly. He was careful not to sneak up on the guy. Every mech took change differently, but it wouldn’t shock him if Chomp tended to bite it out.

“You look like you got a lot on your mind.” His voice was rough but kind. The elasmoformer looked up at him, but no interest stirred in his red optics.

“Mind if I sit down?” Kup took the indifferent stare as an invitation. His old joints creaked as he settled onto the edge of the pit next to him. “Ah. Need a lube job.” They sat quietly for a while. It kind of tallied that someone created to be dumb muscle wouldn’t feel a need to fill uncomfortable silences. “Goodie?” He took a glowing candy from subspace and offered it to him. The Sharkticon didn’t answer, but he did eat it. Kup took one for himself and popped it in his mouth. “If it helps, y’ain’t the first minion to lose his master race.”

Chomp glared at him. Kup shrugged.

“They made us too,” he said, “Did you know that?”

“Everyone knows that.” Chomp’s mouth was a snarl. His voice was a scratchy tenor with a faint ring of feedback. Kup hadn’t had the opportunity yet to hear it at anything below a scream.

He nodded and handed him another goodie, which the Sharkticon devoured sulkily.

“They made you, and you betrayed them,” Chomp said around the remains of the goodie. “So they made _us_ , so we _wouldn’t_.”

He swallowed. Kup handed him the pack. He ate another.

“And now they’re gone-” Kup said.

“-because you destroyed them.”

“-because we destroyed them,” he agreed, “What’s that mean to you?”

“Mean?” Chomp stood and started pacing the gallery, his bulky frame suddenly too full of rage to sit still. “It means I failed!” He struck his mace viciously against the wall, and the room shook with the sound. “You won! Game over, thanks for playing, the score is your masters were obliterated!” His voice rose to a shriek as he hit the wall over and over. The candy spilled from his hand and scattered as it hit the floor. He warped the metal of the wall, beating out rivets, until he collapsed. His fans heaved to cool his massive frame. “They’re gone, they’re- they’re in _pieces_ , and I’m- I’m-” His vocal synthesizer broke into shrill, staticky feedback.

Kup stood and walked over to the other mech, kneeling down beside him to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Chomp snapped at him, snake-quick, and he drew it back. But he didn’t walk away, and Chomp was either too exhausted to pursue him or didn’t see the point.

“They’re gone, and you’re still here,” he said, more quietly.

Chomp grit his teeth at the words, clenching his fists until the handle of his tail mace dented his fingers.

Kup sat on the floor next to him, just out of biting range. “You’re angry right now, and you’re hurt and confused. Something happened that you thought would never, ever happen, and you spent your whole function so far workin’ to not think about it.”

His optics were offline. His ventilation was still labored. He was starting to shake, and his synthesizer was crackling erratically.

Kup pressed on with his even tone, looking the Sharkticon in the face. “I’ve seen this play out before, all right? Like I said, you ain’t the first.” His unwilling audience looked away, but it seemed like he could still process speech. “I want you to listen to me, Chomp. You got two options.” He held up two fingers. Chomp wasn’t looking. “The first one is you can keep to your programming. Try to follow code that was never written for anything like where you are now. Twist your head around ’til you think you got a directive, what the Quints would’ve wanted. Guard a dead world, find some glitch and convince yourself he’s their successor, be a fanatic. Whip up a frenzy and beat yourself against the universe until you self destruct.”

The Sharkticon still didn’t turn toward him. “And the other?” His voice was thin and harsh, like broken glass.

Kup put a hand on his shoulder, and this time he didn’t bite. “The other option is, you don’t.” He pulled the big mech into a sitting position, bracing him against the damaged wall.

Chomp turned his optics on him, online now, but numb. Kup offered a smile.

“Don’t,” Chomp repeated blankly.

“That’s right.” Kup nodded. “You find something else. Space is big.” He took out a cloth to clean the grit from Chomp’s face, where it was sticking to the spilled energon. He had to reach his hand inside the jaws of his shark form to do it, but he did. “There’s a whole galaxy to explore, and li’l metal planet that could use some help rebuilding right now. And you’re a lot smarter’n they ever said you were.”

Chomp watched the Autobot as he wiped his cheek and settled back against the wall with his arm around him, too numb to react. “I’m a guard. I was- I’m _only_ a guard for them.”

“And we were slaves.” Kup picked a candy off the floor and put it in his hand. Chomp stared at it, unable to eat for an astrosecond, reeling with the vertigo of infinite space.


End file.
